Black Cat's Luck
by LadyStarblade
Summary: Phil Cerretta and Lennie Briscoe have a conversation.


Title: Black Cat's Luck   
  
Author: Lady Starblade -- ladystarblade@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Category: General  
  
Spoilers: "Confession" and "Prince of Darkness" (basically the fates of Max & Phil)  
  
Warnings: None  
  
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.   
  
Feedback: Pretty please? (makes Bambi eyes)   
  
Disclaimer: The Law & Order Universe and the wonderful characters that inhabit it do not belong to me. I make no money from this writing.   
  
Author's Note: After the end of "Point of View" and given what we know of Mike Logan's personality, I figured something like this had to have taken place.  
  
Summary: Phil Cerretta and Lennie Briscoe have a conversation.  
  
**  
  
The 110th Precinct of the New York Police Department was way too calm. It was too clean, too organized. Lennie Briscoe momentarily wondered if he had wandered into the wrong building. Then he saw the half-fossilized glazed donuts and the coffee that looked like it was about to crawl out of the pot on its own. Yep, despite all outward appearances, this was a police station.  
  
A short, harried looking woman looked up from her desk, which, despite the neat stacks, was still buried under paperwork. "Whatcha need?" Her accent was pure Brooklyn and very strident.  
  
Lennie fixed his friendliest smile on his face. "I'm looking for Phil Cerretta. Is he in?"  
  
The woman glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, he should be." She then turned back to her work with a distinct 'don't bother me again' air.  
  
"Gee, thanks." Lennie said under his breath.  
  
"Oh, don't mind Barb. She lives up to her name." Lennie spun toward the voice at his shoulder at the same time Barb glared in the same direction.   
  
Phil Cerretta stood behind him, a wide smile on his round face. "Well, if it isn't Lennie Briscoe." He stuck a hand out and Lennie shook it, feeling his slender hand being engulfed in the much larger paw.  
  
"Phil Cerretta. Or should I say *Lieutenant* Cerretta?"  
  
Phil laughed as he withdrew his hand. "Don't remind me."  
  
"What's the matter, don't like being in charge of New York City's finest?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Phil replied, "In charge? I feel like I'm back at home with the kids. My respect for Don Cragen grows every day." Barb harrumphed and returned to the stack of folders in the center of her desk, seemingly oblivious to Phil's pointed look. "Come on." He beckoned to Lennie as he turned towards the office at the other end of the room.  
  
Lennie followed, carefully watching the other man for any lingering signs of the injury that had cut short his career on the street. Mike had told him that Phil would never be completely right again due to nerve damage. Phil moved slower than before, his walk measured and ponderous, combining with his stature to make him even more imposing than before.  
  
Lennie knew Phil pretty well....not as well as Mike knew him, of course, but a guy got familiar with everyone at a given precinct pretty quickly, especially if the person was as open and friendly as Phil. Mike, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He had been partnered with Mike Logan for two months, yet the man still baffled him. Lennie couldn't figure out what made his partner tick, and that didn't sit well with him at all. If he was going to trust this man with watching his back, he wanted to understand him, not keep butting heads with him.  
  
They entered the office and Phil closed the door behind them. It swung shut with a soft click, not the slight screech-thud of Cragen's door. Lennie threw another glance out into the squad room before commenting, "Some place you got here."  
  
"Trust me, it's the calm before the storm." Phil lowered himself into the chair behind the room's desk, gesturing to the opposite chair. "Have a seat." He waited until Lennie sat, then asked, "So what brings you all the way out here? Mikey giving you trouble?"  
  
Lennie tilted his head, lifting his eyebrows in agreement. "You might say that."  
  
Phil's demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly, his eyebrows raising in a mirror of Lennie's. "Oh?"  
  
Quickly amending his statement, Lennie waved a hand. "Not obvious trouble. Just....I suppose you could call it a lack of information."  
  
Phil nodded slowly. "Mike can be difficult."  
  
A bark of laughter escaped Lennie's lips. "That's an understatement. I just can't figure him out. He's a good cop, but I just can't put my finger on him."  
  
Phil sat silently for a few moments. When he spoke, Lennie almost started. "You have to be patient with him. He's just squirrelly after what happened."  
  
"I've heard he's getting a rep of being a black cat. Is it safe being partnered with him and his luck?" Two partners shot in a relatively short period of time, one dead, one badly injured. Cops were a superstitious bunch, and a detective on that kind of a losing streak didn't have prospective partners beating down his door.  
  
A vehement shake of the head showed Phil's disagreement as he leaned forward in his chair, pointing a finger at Lennie. "No, no. Mike was the best partner I ever had. Smart as hell and loyal almost to a fault. Consider yourself lucky you got him."  
  
"Yeah, him and everything that comes with him."  
  
Phil's finger folded back into his fist. "We've all got skeletons in our closets. Don't you?" His tone carried a note of irony. Lennie knew that Phil was well aware of his struggles with the bottle.  
  
Lennie conceded the point. "Okay. So what's his skeleton?" Phil's brow furrowed as he opened his mouth, and Lennie quickly added, "I don't need the gory details, just the button. What's his beef with the world?"  
  
To Lennie's surprise, Phil chuckled, settling back and folding his hands across his belly. "Mike's a rare thing, Lennie. He's a guy that's been at this for a while and still cares. His problem is when he can't make it right, he gets mad. And sometimes he isn't really picky about his targets."  
  
"I've heard about the temper. I've already seen it in action a few times. Could never tell that he's got Irish in him."  
  
Phil raised a finger again, this time in a cautioning way. "He never takes it out on someone who doesn't deserve it." The finger moved, pointing to his own eye. "He'll get this little look in his eye when it starts to get personal. You'll know it when you see it. That's when you have to rein him in. Like I said, he's smart. He knows when he's getting close. He just needs a little reminder every once in a while."  
  
"Okay." Lennie bobbed his head. "So he's a smart hothead. But that leaves the whole trust thing."  
  
Phil lowered his hand. "Earn it. Once you earn it, you'll have it for good. It might be hard, but worth it. He doesn't react so well to change. It took us a month or two to get on the same page. Losing Max was hard for him. He just has to adjust. He will. Don't worry. And you can trust him."  
  
"Loyal almost to a fault." Lennie echoed.  
  
"He is at that." Phil's voice dropped so low Lennie had to lean forward to hear him. "He has his problems, Lennie, but he's a good man. Just be patient."  
  
They locked gazes for several seconds before Lennie smiled. "Be patient and earn his trust. No problem. If I don't kill him first."  
  
Phil returned the smile. "Resist, Lennie. Resist."  
  
The clock on Phil's desk let out a little chime. Ten 'o clock. Lennie pushed himself to his feet. "And that's my cue. I should be getting back."  
  
Phil rose to his feet and stuck his hand back out. "It was good talking to you. Tell that wayward partner of yours hello and to clear his social calendar for a night. Elaine and I want him over for dinner."  
  
"I'll pass it along." Lennie moved to the door, listening to Phil's following footsteps. The door opened as easily as it had closed, not needing a hard yank to swing wide. He half-turned to look back at Phil. The other man clapped him gently on the shoulder.  
  
"I think Don made a good choice. You'll work out well together. If you ever feel your Mike Resistance wearing thin, feel free to call."  
  
"Thanks, Phil. See you around, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."   
  
The men exchanged a nod and Lennie headed back across the squad room. Lennie couldn't resist a "Bye, Barb" as he passed by the woman's desk. He was rewarded with a very un-ladylike snort. At the last moment, he reached out and snagged one of the stiffening donuts.  
  
**  
  
Lennie slid the tissue wrapped donut across the desk. It came to an abrupt stop as it crashed into Mike Logan's hand, making the pen it held skitter across the page. The dark haired detective glanced up, an annoyed look already fixed on his face. "What was that for?" Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Where've you been?"  
  
Sitting down at his own desk and loosening his tie, Lennie dipped his head at the object. "A little souvenir from the One-Ten."  
  
Mike's expression changed to one of confusion. "Huh?" He tugged at the tissue with one hand, revealing the donut. A sound halfway between a snort and a laugh erupted from him as he looked back over at Lennie. "The One-Ten? What didja go all the way over there for?"  
  
"Just a little visit with the new Lieutenant Cerretta."  
  
The immediate grin lightened Mike's features considerably. "Hey, how is Phil?"  
  
"He's doing good. Got his hands full over there, if the gal I met is any indication. He says he and Elaine want you over for dinner sometime soon." Lennie cocked his head. "Remember, he's a lieutenant now. Gotta do what he says."  
  
Mike did snort this time, the smile still on his face. "Yeah right. Phil knows better."  
  
"Phil knows a lot of things." He let his gaze grow contemplative, knowing that Mike would notice it immediately.  
  
"Been checking up on me?" There was no irritation or pique in Mike's voice, and Lennie let himself relax.  
  
"Just a little bit. No state secrets, though. Scout's honor."  
  
"I'll bet." The younger man nodded as he tore a piece of the donut off and popped it in his mouth. Instantly, his face scrunched up. "Oh man, that is awful! How old is this thing anyway?"  
  
Lennie smiled innocently. "I have no idea. Just grabbed it as I was leaving."  
  
Mike grimaced again, but finished chewing and swallowed. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Mike carefully rewrapped the donut and set it aside with exaggerated care. "I think I'm going to find something to wash my mouth out with. Like maybe paint thinner." His mouth quirked back upward as he stood up. "Be back in a minute."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere." Lennie watched Mike moved away. The kid did have something, that was for sure. The mystery was slowly beginning to solve itself. Now with Phil's advice at the back of his mind, it was time to ignore the talk, trust his instincts, and trust his partner.  
  
After all, even a black cat could be lucky.  
  
END 


End file.
